


Goodnight Socialite

by autotheft



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: Angst, Inspired by Music, M/M, Violent, agatha too i guess, not really agatha/ simon at all, the brobecks - Freeform, very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 08:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5737537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autotheft/pseuds/autotheft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one has seen Agatha for a week, yet Simon still accepts an invitation to dinner at Baz's mansion; promising to himself that he won't let his guard down. But is Baz hiding something?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodnight Socialite

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song 'Goodnight Socialite' by The Brobecks (You should listen to the song first)- I'm sorry that all I write is angst

**<** [**https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjy_MDGv1A4**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjy_MDGv1A4) ** >**

 

 **_In the darkest corner of the house,_ ** ****__  
**_I found her body there._ ** ****__  
**_Cold and stiff,_ ** ****__  
**_Spine in a twist._ ** ****__  
**_She left a note,_ ** ****__  
**_It read like so:_ ** ****__  
**_My Dearest one,_ ** **_  
_ ** ******_Here's what you've done._**

**_[ / ]_ **

 

This was the first time Simon had been to Baz’s home, and it was intimidatingly huge. He couldn’t actually believe Baz lived here; well, he could, but it was still unfathomable to Simon, who’d spent his life sharing a bedroom with 6 other kids. meanwhile, Baz’s mansion had at least 15 fucking bedrooms, which could probably fit 15 people in them each. _Rich people_ , Simon couldn't help but think to himself when Baz had given him the grand tour, which showcased most of the building in its entirety. What was odd however, was that some areas Baz would dodge past quietly and hope that Simon didn’t notice. He did, and even though he tried his hardest to make out what was past the dark and foreboding corridors, all he saw were silhouettes of furniture and door frames.

 

It was quiet now, and Simon had the feeling that he was being watched, the feeling was gnawing at him from the inside out. He was alone, for the moment, but Baz could be back at any second. He let out a shaky sigh and steadied his trembling hands on the dark oak wood dinner table, nothing about this situation felt right to him at all. In fact, as soon as he’d stepped through into Baz’s Gothic mansion he felt like something was _off_ about this whole scenario. It wasn’t just the fact that Baz had been uncharacteristically nice since Simon had gotten here, but it was eerily quiet and the silence made him feel like time was standing still, and that he would be trapped in this moment forever; sat at an extended dining table wringing his hands.

 

An untouched plate of steak that was soaking in watered down blood sat in front of him, steam rising off of it and dissipating into the air. He had been invited to this dinner, and was urged by Penny _not_ to go. Penny had pleaded with him relentlessly, telling him over and over that it was a bad idea; especially since Agatha had been missing for a week now. Simon had ignored her, (“I can use it as an opportunity to check out what the old families are up to!” He’d said at tea the other night, buttering his fourth scone.) So far he hadn’t seen any other of Baz’s family members roaming about the place, but he’d only stayed in the living room and the dining room so far, and he hadn’t seen anyone whilst touring the mansion, so maybe he just hadn’t ran into them yet.   

Simon felt a cool draft of air against the back of his neck. He looked down at the plate of steak, it felt like it was taunting him as the steam rose up and flooded his face. Simon had promised himself that he wasn’t going to eat. He didn’t know what was in it, Baz could have laced it with deadly poison for all he knew. Simon imagined himself taking one bite and keeling over onto the dining table as poison flooded his veins. So he wasn’t going to eat anything that was presented to him. Simon heard his stomach groan, and wrapped his arms around himself as if the hunger would go away if he hugged himself tight enough. He was so hungry that the bile in the pit of his stomach was gurgling and spitting up his throat, threatening to crawl up and get all over the wine red table cloth. _Baz will be back soon_ , Simon thought, but it was more like a wish. _He’ll be back soon, and then I can make some excuse to leave_. But the steak had started to make him dribble, and before he could even think he’d started to tear through it, blood running down his chin and dripping onto his school shirt like an animal ripping apart its prey.

 

After Simon had licked the plate clean, a sudden pang of dread flooded his system and he started to panic. What if Baz really had poisoned his dinner? It wasn’t below Baz to do such a thing; after all, he was always constantly threatening to kill Simon anyway. Simon started shaking, he could feel sweat beading from his pores and his curls were starting to stick to his forehead. He wiped his brow with the back of his shirt sleeve and decided he couldn’t sit here waiting anymore. The dining chair made an echoing screech when it scraped against the marble floor as he got to his feet, he threw his knife and fork down and they clattered as they hit the ceramic plate. Baz had been gone for at least 45 minutes now, it was about time to start searching for him.

___

It was hard not to get lost in the twisting corridors of Baz’s home. Simon was getting frustrated with himself, he knew that he was probably going around in circles at this point. Everything looked the same; the same maroon wallpaper, the same candle vices lining the walls and the same arched windows overlooking pine trees that stretched for miles. Simon sat down on the edge of a window sill, trying to look for any sign of life out in the cold winter evening. It was getting dark fast, the sky was purple, and only a slight drizzle of red sunset remained as a crescent moon came into view. Simon didn’t know what time it was, he didn’t wear a watch like most people did- the battery always burned out if he wore them for too long, something about too much electricity in his body- so he never had any concept of time. He absent mindedly started to fiddle with the tassels on the heavy black out curtains that hung elegantly on the walls beside the large glass window. That was the only word that fit this place perfectly; _elegant_. But still something about this building left a bitter taste in Simon’s mouth.

 

Simon hadn’t been sat down for long, but the warm glow of the sky turning to dusk was soothing to him and he had a belly full of food, so sleep was fast becoming an option he couldn't back out of. He started to slump against the window pane, eyes closed and breathing dangerously slow, then he heard a thump. It made him jump out of his skin, and he smacked the back of his head on the curtain rod.

“ _Shit fuck_ -” He cursed out loud without meaning to. He brought his right hand up to his injury, immediately feeling for a bump. Nothing there, he was being melodramatic. He sprung to his feet and whipped his head around, looking down the long empty hallway that was lit up by the faint glow of moonlight and wall mounted candles.

 

Another thump, followed by footsteps. They were soft, careful footsteps, like tapping on hollow wood. Simon could barely hear them, but the Mansion was so quiet any noise echoed and rippled through the many corridors and floors easily. He wondered who it was, then figured it was probably Baz. A sudden realization hit him and curdled in his stomach like milk going sour; he didn’t know how long he’d been searching around this godforsaken mansion. Baz could have gotten back to the dinner table now, only to be greeted with an empty chair and a plate that had been licked clean. Maybe Baz was searching for him too. Simon decided to follow the footsteps, racing down each corridor and following the constant soft thuds against the floorboards.

\---

 

The footsteps had stopped. Simon had been so sure that he was following the noise, but he was stuck at a dead end. The room he’d ended up in was even darker than the rest of the building; no windows lined the walls, and the red candle wax had melted away into puddles. The longer he stood in the darkness, the more his skin crawled. There were no more thumps or loud crashes, just dead silence that enveloped Simon in uneasiness. He squinted hard until his eyes got used to the dim surroundings. He could see the outlines of furniture, dusty, old wooden chests and royal purple armchairs were clumped together messily. _This must be a storage room_ , Simon thought to himself, chewing his bottom lip and tearing at the layer of skin until it started to sting.

 

His heart was throbbing and threatening to burst through his chest, something really didn’t feel right about this room; the air was much thicker and harsher on his lungs. He wanted to call out for someone- Baz, most likely- but his voice ran dry. And as his frantic eyes darted from corner to corner, he saw a figure curled in the corner, jutting out in broken, jumbled directions. Simon gasped and stumbled forward, trying to make out the figure’s features. There was a rotten smell lingering in the air, it smelt like compost and death. The closer he got, the stronger and stronger the stench became, until Simon was retching and bile was spewing from his mouth. he keeled over, falling onto his hands and knees and staining the dark green carpet. But the carpet was already stained. After wiping his mouth and letting out a shaky breath, he saw a deep shade of crusty, dried up red and brown in the fraying carpet hairs. Simon staggered to his feet, covering his mouth and nose with his hand in a desperate attempt to get rid of _the smell._ His eyes adjusted, and he recognized dainty features, and hair like spun silk.

_No… Holy fucking shit, no…_

Simon couldn’t fucking comprehend; Agatha’s twisted, battered body was crumpled in a heap at his feet. It took everything in him not to throw up again.

 

She was in a white silk nightgown and her blonde locks of hair were french braided neatly down her back. the nightgown looked fresh, and not bloody like the rest of her. There were dried patches of blood and cut after cut all over her face. Simon’s breath hitched suddenly when he noticed through the darkness that her eye sockets were empty and oozing. All he could do was stand there, looking down at her broken, lifeless body and feeling nothing else but guilt. In her clenched fist there was a crumpled piece of blood stained paper, the ink was running slightly with the red splotches. Simon gingerly reached down to pick it up; prying the note from her corpse felt wrong, but he needed to know what had happened.

 

He smoothed the paper out into his palm and struggled to read it without a light source. Simon’s heart started to beat faster than he thought possible when he could make out the cursive letters;

 

_my dearest one,_

_here’s what you’ve done._

 

He clenched the note into a tight ball in his fist, guilt rising back up his throat and spreading throughout his body. He was shaking, the smell of decaying corpse was too much for him and seeing his ex-girlfriend’s brutally murdered body had broken something inside of him. As he felt warm tears form in his eyes he heard a creak of floorboards, and span around instantaneously. Baz stood there, his black hair slicked back with gel and a small blue flame floating above his left palm. Something made of metal glinted in his other hand. He was smiling. It was a hysterical sort of smile; he was smiling like he knew he had won.

 

“You found her then.” His voice was cool, Simon couldn’t detect a hint of empathy in his tone. Simon wasn’t sure he was entirely breathing, everything felt like it was standing still; except for Baz. “I didn’t want you to meet her this way,” Baz sighed and flexed his wrists, “I wanted to bring her down to dinner myself, and introduce you.”

Simon couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he shook his head over and over, his bronze curls were bouncing from side to side frantically. Baz started to inch closer, the fire in his palm illuminated his face beautifully, it was the only thing Simon could see clearly in the darkness. “But you had to go snooping around didn’t you? you always have to poke your nose into other people’s business.” Baz raised one of his perfect eyebrows at him and chuckled, it was a deep and raw chuckle that bounced off of the walls and bounced around in Simon’s ears.  
“Get the fuck away from me, you… you _monster_.” That was all Simon could muster, backing into a corner slowly as Baz continued to inch closer and closer.

“My plan was going so well, Snow, it was all coming together!” He let his flame swell up and become bigger, he let his eyes glint with hunger. “You were going to love me, Simon Snow. I was going to be your one and only.”

 

Those words hit Simon like a freight train.The impact hit him full on and he gasped in response; his voice had vanished. Simon was afraid of the boy in front of him. He wasn’t Baz. “I told you fifteen dozen times,” Baz continued on with that menacing smile still glued to his face, although his tone had started to grow irritated, “Do you know how many times that is, Snow? Do you?” The object in his right hand glinted again in the fire’s light and caught Simon’s eye. It was a butchers knife, eroded with blood and rust; just looking at it made Simon clutch his elbows in panic.

 

Baz turned his head slightly to the side, his mouth half open as he stared at Simon, transfixed on his beauty. He was going to make a beautiful doll. “That’s one hundred and eighty times, Snow.” He spoke softly, bringing the knife right up to Simon’s face now, tracing his moles with the blunt edge. Simon still whimpered in fear. “I told you and told you… If _I_ can’t have you,” Baz started to slowly raise the arm holding the corroded knife, Simon watched it imperiously; it glinted like a star above Simon’s sun kissed curls, and came down forcefully, cracking into his beautiful skull before he had time to react.

“Then no one can.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
